


Atlas

by Violetrayofsunshine



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Beau is back on her bullshit, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-adjacent, Disaster Lesbians, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pre-Slash, WIP, critical role - Freeform, i'll add tags as i go, the mighty nein - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetrayofsunshine/pseuds/Violetrayofsunshine
Summary: Seven times Yasha carried a member of the Mighty Nein, and one time they carried her.





	1. Nott

The fact is, Nott is three feet tall. She is many other things besides: sneaky, brave, resourceful, wily, curious, and green. She is quick with a knife and skilled with a bow. Her clever fingers could disarm traps and unlock doors, and she could knock back drinks with the best of them. But her legs were short and her strides were small. The only thing to change that would be a spell from Caleb. But when the wizard was preoccupied blasting fire at the enemies chasing them, when everyone was running for their lives, Nott was on her own. 

 

Or so she thought, until she felt the back of her hood being pulled up and her feet suddenly left the ground. The goblin looked around wildly, her limbs flailing in the air. Nott was less afraid but still confused when her eyes locked onto Yasha, who was attempting to lift her up and keep running.

 

“Yasha?!” she squeaked, totally at a loss for what to say. Rather than answering, the barbarian sheathed her sword and brought her other hand over to lift Nott onto her shoulders.

 

She had been in this position before, but only in much less stressful circumstances and only on Caleb’s smaller frame. The height difference was alarming. Nott wasn’t sure how to hold on without choking Yasha. When the tall woman started running again, however, she quickly settled on resting her claws atop the bigger woman’s head to balance, trying not to squeeze or scratch.

 

“Nott?! Are you alright?” Yasha called, turning her head slightly and inadvertently causing the goblin to cling on even tighter, partially obscuring her vision.

 

“Do we – do we have to go this fast?” Nott asked shrilly, gritting her teeth.

 

“We do if you want to live!” Yasha answered, avoiding a wall of ice as it materialized where she’d been seconds before. The Mighty Nein had been sent to this cave hideout in the middle of a forest to negotiate on behalf of the Gentleman, but the band of mages and assassins had other ideas. Namely, killing them all on sight.

 

“Duck! On your left!” Nott shouted as she spotted a bandit coming at them from the side with an axe. Yasha started zigzagging to lose them. They had almost reached the edge of the clearing, where they would have more cover in the thicker trees. Suddenly, the aasimar lurched forward, almost face planting on the ground and throwing off her passenger. Nott looked around in confusion before spotting the arrow lodged into Yasha’s lower back. She righted herself and continued to run, but it was at a much slower and unsteady pace. Nott knew they wouldn’t be able to make it like this.

 

Taking a deep breath, she drew her bow and turned around at the waist, locking her legs around Yasha’s shoulders for support. She loosed an arrow straight into the throat of the mage closing in behind them. A second later, Nott sent another bandit to their death with a bolt through the eye.

 

“Bullseye!” she exclaimed proudly.

 

“What?” Yasha asked, confused. She didn’t turn her head this time, all of her energy focused on running forward.

 

“Never mind, just keep going! I’ve got it covered!” she reassured her. One by one, the goblin eliminated their pursuers as Yasha caught up to the rest of the group.

 

“Hurry up, you guys!” Jester called from the tree line, beckoning them closer. Once they were sure they’d made it far enough and not been followed, Yasha leaned over, hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath. Nott gracefully hopped off as the others joined them.

 

“Yasha, are you alright? You have an arrow in your back!” exclaimed Beau, worried.

 

“Jester can take care of it, I’m certain. Nott, are you hurt?” she replied. 

 

“I’m fine. You saved me!” Nott said, shaking her head. Yasha looked embarrassed, avoiding eye contact and blushing slightly. 

 

“I’m not so sure I would have made it here without your crossbow,” she pointed out. Nott grinned and puffed out her chest.

 

“Don’t worry, Yasha! I’ve always…got your back!” she said, pointing crossbow fingers at her friend. 

 

Fjord groaned, exasperated. Yasha smiled.


	2. Beau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Disaster Lesbians are at it again

Beau:

 

Yasha was no stranger to fist fights and bar brawls. She didn’t mind them; often they were entertaining. Yet somehow even after living with an actual circus, she’d never witnessed so many as she had since meeting Beau.

 

People were supposed to be afraid sometimes. Yasha had discovered in her travels that no matter the age, species, gender, or skill set, everyone was afraid of something. Some were just better at hiding it than others. Beau, however, seemed to be missing the emotion altogether. There was a little mechanism that most people had, that could swing from "fight" to "flight" when they were in danger. If Beau had one, it was definitely broken. The monk's mechanism seemed to go from "fight" to "fight to the death."

 

Yasha considered this as she watched their favorite monk flip backwards over a table. She wasn't even sure what had started it, having been ordering drinks at the time. She'd turned around with a flagon of ale in each hand and had found Beau in hand to hand combat with a tall, muscular, blonde elf.

 

'Fjord said not to even leave her alone for five minutes,' she scolded herself. 'I thought he was exaggerating at least a little bit.'

 

Yasha hung back, certain that Beau would be angry if her fight was interrupted before she was finished. But she worried for her friend as the elf got in a solid hit to her eye. Furious, Beau picked up the nearest chair and swung it with all her might into the elf's side, eliciting a pained shout from him and a loud cheer from the gathering crowd.

 

Everyone in the bar seemed to have stopped what they were doing to watch the brawl. Yasha thought she saw some of them placing bets and rolled her eyes. Turning back to Beau, she saw her ram an elbow into the man's stomach and stomp on his foot. He roared and shoved her forward with both arms, knocking her off balance, and kicked her in the back.

 

He was advancing, foot aimed for another kick, when she rolled sideways under a table and leapt up, grabbing another chair as she went. The elf turned to follow but Beau hurled it at him from several feet away. He ducked, the chair almost hitting several onlookers as it landed. In the split second he was distracted, Beau had surged forward and smashed a half filled wine bottle over his head. The elf looked up, incensed, as blood and wine poured from his temple. He drew his sword from its sheath and the crowd let out a gasp.

 

"You want to fight, little minx? Let's fight," he spat.

 

Beau cocked her head, unimpressed, and shrugged.

 

"I mean, obviously, dude."

 

 

The man ran at her, livid, and she flung a bar stool at him to slow him down as she flipped back over the same table as before. The we cleaved the stool in two without changing course. Beau somersaulted over him, landing on another table, and ran the opposite direction down the length of it.

 

'It would be incredible if it wasn't so absurd,' Yasha thought to herself. The barbarian began to wave people back, ushering them out of the line of fire. If this wasn't resolved soon, she would end it herself.

 

\- CLANG! -

 

Beau had blocked a swipe of the sword with a metal plate she'd picked up and then thrown like a frisbee. She made to jump out of reach again, but the sword caught her arm, slicing from shoulder to elbow. Wincing, Beau clutched the cut with her other hand and landed a roundhouse kick across the elf's face before doing another backflip off the table. Cackling, she began methodically throwing silverware and plates at him as he chased her, breaking his nose with a heavy tankard.

 

"What's the matter, man? Can't keep up?"

 

He was an enraged bull and she was the Matador, leading him around the bar and entertaining the excitable audience. Yasha could tell Beau was enjoying herself, having fun toying with the man as though they were children.

 

Or she was, until the elf grabbed the table she'd just jumped from and heaved it out of the way, knocking several people over that Yasha hadn't managed to herd away yet. An old man had been trapped beneath the table, the heavy oak weighing down his chest.

 

"Hey!" Beau yelled. "Your beef is with me, not everyone else!"

 

She rushed at him, fists raised, and landed a solid punch to the mouth. He swung at her with his sword, barely missing as she ducked underneath. He kicked her in the shin, almost unbalancing her. Outraged, Beau leapt straight up at the elf's neck, lifting herself up and wrapping muscular thighs around his throat.

 

He made several loud, protesting gurgles and swatted at her wildly, trying to buck her off. She held on tight, ready to wait him out until he lost consciousness. The elf must have sensed what was coming as he grabbed her ankles and launched himself backwards, making sure she couldn't jump off in the nick of time.

 

Meanwhile, Yasha had lifted the table to free the elderly gentleman, who thanked her profusely. She guided the last stragglers ('were they stupid or stubborn?' she wondered) toward the bar and away from the fight that was rapidly spiraling out of control. She turned around in time to see Beau's skull hit the stone floor with an audible crack, both of their bodies shuddering from the impact. The elf sat up, desperately taking in huge lungfuls of air. Beau struggled, momentarily stunned, and reached for the back of her head. Her fingertips came away bloody. There was barely a moment to process this before the elf was on her, still breathing hard. He grabbed her ankle with one hand, lifting up, and then came down hard on her knee with the other. There was a loud snap and then Beau made the kind of sound Yasha hadn't heard in a long time. She'd hoped she never would again.

 

The barbarian ran forward, ready to end this petty brawl, but somehow Beau was already up. With a ferocious snarl she lunged for his throat once more, her injured leg trailing behind her. She held him down with her body weight, one hand crushing his windpipe and the other punching every inch of his face she could reach. Shocked (and not a little impressed), Yasha could only stand there and watch as Beau unleashed her fury on the unwitting elf. After a few more seconds, she dropped him, his head falling limp. She rolled sideways off of him with a grunt, panting.

 

Yasha stepped forward, more hesitantly, than she normally would.

 

"Beau? Are you alright?" she asked.

 

"Great!" she replied, a little too brightly. She made to get up but let out a yelp when the movement jostled her leg. "Well...that could have gone smoother."

 

Yasha raised an eyebrow skeptically, crossed her arms.

 

"I'll be right back," she said. She turned around to find the barkeeper, who'd been cowering with his wife and son behind the counter. They all looked shaken

 

"Is everyone safe?" she asked.

 

"I-I think so. 'Cept for old Louis, but I think Bernard is helping him," the man answered, jerking a thumb to the other side of the bar, where a younger man was easing the older one into a chair.

 

"I've never seen Lance act like that before," the barkeep continued. Yasha tilted her head, confused.

 

"He's always been a bit of a bully. Full of himself, entitled, you know. But he's never lost control like that."

 

"I... apologize for any...damages we've caused. We'll do our best to...compensate you. But right now, I need to get my friend back to our rooms; she needs a healer."

 

"Oh, right. Of course. Don't worry, we'll get the Crownsguard," he said, nodding. Yasha smiled in thanks, then returned to the spot where Beau was attempting to get her good foot under her.

 

"Jester should be able to help you with that," Yasha said.

 

"Yeah, I know, it's just gonna, uh, take me a hot minute to get there," she grumbled.

 

The Aasimar rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and stooped to pick her up, hauling her over her shoulder.

 

"Hey, what - ?!" Beau exclaimed, wiggling around.

 

"You can't walk," Yasha said simply.

 

"Yeah, this isn't embarrassing at all," she mumbled.

 

As she straightened up with Beau in tow, the crowd around them started to clap & cheer. Yasha paid them no mind & continued out the door. Beau gave a sarcastic salute with a self-deprecating smirk. They got some odd looks in the street, Beau waving at people behind Yasha. They maintained a considerable distance.

 

Upon finally returning to their own inn, they were ambushed by an alarmed Fjord, followed by an only slightly less worried Mollymauk.

 

"What the hell happened?!" the half Orc cried. Yasha turned around so that Beau was facing her friend.

 

"Nothing! Some asshole was acting like a tool, so I told him to fuck off!" she said defensively.

 

"You told him?" Fjord retorted, tilting her chin up to examine her bruises and scrapes.

 

"Yeah! ...with my...fists," she said lamely. It would have sounded a lot better if she hadn't been dangling almost upside down like a sack of flour. Fjord shook his head in dismay.

 

"Are you alright?" Molly asked, coming around and placing a hand on Yasha's arm. She gave him a small smile, the kind that were reserved just for him.

 

"Fine. Where's Jester?"

 

"Upstairs taking a nap. Go get the unpleasant one healed up," he said, his words tinged with mirth. Beau flipped him off, stretching her arm out so he'd be sure to see it.

 

Yasha nodded to Molly and Fjord and headed for Beau & Jester's room. The door was ajar, so she crept in quietly and placed Beau on her bed as silently as possible. Jester was fast asleep on her own bed, notebook open on the floor and pencil still clutched in her hand.

 

Yasha made as if to tap Jester's shoulder, waking her gently instead of startling her, when Beau caught her elbow, shaking her head.

 

Yasha gave her a quizzical look, waiting for an explanation.

 

"I don't want to wake her. She's been having trouble sleeping lately."

 

"But...your leg? You're hurt."

 

"It's okay for now. I can wait until she wakes up on her own."

 

Yasha smiled, feeling a sudden affection for the monk. 'That's a good look on her,' Beau thought privately, pleased to have been the cause of it.

 

"You want to...sit for a while?" Beau asked uncertainly.

 

Yasha shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, suddenly resembling a baby deer more than a fearsome warrior. Beau patted her hand on the edge of the bed, and she hesitantly sat down.

 

"Are you...feeling alright?"

 

"Swell!" Beau replied sarcastically, but added seriously, "Honestly I've had way worse. Just gotta think about something else."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Well, for one thing - how much do I owe you?"

 

Yasha tilted her head to the side quizzically.

 

"You know, the first time you carried me, you said holding me was going to cost five gold. How much do I owe you this time?"

 

Another smile crept onto the Aasimar's pale features.

 

"This one's on the house."

**Author's Note:**

> I :) hate :) formatting :)))))
> 
> I'm about halfway done with Fjord and Caleb's chapter - stay tuned! 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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